Lessons
by AZGirl
Summary: "I'm not quite certain that he's learning the right lesson," Athos stated, nodding towards the pair sparring nearby. Tag to 1.05 The Homecoming.


**Disclaimer**: The Musketeers are not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

**Spoilers**: 1.05 The Homecoming.

**A/N**: This was another of those stories where it was meant to go one direction and ended up somewhere else.

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"_It's not what it looks like." – Porthos to a Red Guard, 1.05 The Homecoming._

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Athos and Aramis winced in sync as Porthos's opponent hit the ground. From the sound the poor lad made as he landed, it was clear that the wind had been knocked out of him.

Troubled that the young recruit had not made any attempts to rise, Athos made to step towards the two, but was stopped midstride by Aramis's hand on his biceps.

A moment later, the young man rolled over from his position on his back to one on his hands and knees, coughing and taking shaky breaths. After another minute, a concerned-looking Porthos stepped forward and stretched out a helping hand in front of the recruit's face.

Startled, the recruit scrambled to stand on his own, obviously not trusting the hand before him. The concerned expression on Porthos's face transformed to a feral grin as he waited for his adversary to be ready for their next bout. It was apparent that the still out-of-breath recruit had yet to learn anything. From the annoyed, yet determined look gracing the young face, it seemed the lesson would be a long time coming.

"I thought he apologized," Athos said, returning to his previous relaxed position.

"He did," Aramis confirmed.

"And Porthos accepted."

"He did."

"The lad apologized to me as well. You?"

His companion nodded. "And I accepted," Aramis admitted with a slightly conflicted look on his face.

Athos gestured towards the two men nearby. It looked as though the younger of the two was almost ready to resume practice. "Then why—?"

Aramis shrugged and guessed, "Making sure he learns a lesson?"

A roll of the other man's eyes was the only response.

Porthos signaled for another bout to start. In less than a minute, the recruit was caught in a headlock.

With a nod towards the pair, of which the younger of the two was attempting to sweep at Porthos's leg to try and break the hold, Athos stated, "I'm not quite certain that he's learning the right one."

The two spectators winced again as the recruit was thrown to the ground once more though they couldn't help but be pleased when a wide grin broke out on Porthos's face.

The sound of an apple being bit into reached their ears seconds before its consumer came to stand next to them.

"That was me yesterday," the newcomer said as he pointed his apple towards the recruit struggling to his feet. "My bruises have bruises." With a roll of an obviously sore shoulder, he continued, "In fact, I think I have a bruise on a bruise on a bruise. I had no idea that was even possible until I met you lot."

Aramis and Athos both smirked as another bite of apple was taken by their companion, but it was the sharpshooter who spoke up, "But you learned a lesson, did you not?"

The young man chewed thoughtfully for a moment and swallowed before nodding. "I never realized that there was an art to falling when attacked, especially when lives may depend on you quickly getting back up again. If it wasn't for the fact that it was Porthos, I would have thought my instructor was being malicious."

A bright, genuine smile erupted on Aramis's face as he declared. "Now he's got it!"

His declaration was met with twin confused expressions until the older of the two nodded once in sudden understanding.

Turning towards the younger man, Aramis began explaining, "Knowing how to get back up when you've fallen is one thing, but you learned an even more important lesson yesterday." He placed hand on the other's shoulder, looking him in the eyes, before quoting his recent words, "'This is Porthos. You understand?'"

"Definitely," d'Artagnan said sincerely without hesitation, sounding almost as if he'd just made a vow.

Aramis squeezed d'Artagnan's shoulder once before nodding and letting go.

The three of them went back to watching Porthos training others and noticed that there was someone new out there with him. While they had conversed, they'd apparently missed what had happened to the previous man their friend had sparred with.

"How many does this make?" Athos asked.

"Ten? Maybe twelve? I've lost track," d'Artagnan replied before finishing his apple.

"It shouldn't be much longer now," Aramis cut in with a grin. "You saw his smile with the last one."

Athos nodded. "I did, but it would be preferable if Porthos worked out his frustrations about Charon and the Court of Miracles _before_ he damages the entire regiment."

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_The end._

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**A/N:** This came about because I wasn't completely convinced that d'Artagnan really understood when Aramis said 'This is Porthos.'

No beta; please forgive any lingering errors.

_**Thanks for reading!**_


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